I'm Sorry
by shaker11
Summary: Perverted Klaine dom/sub spank fic. Basically.
1. Chapter 1

Ok so I was inspired to write this by a kink meme prompt fic. I found it really hot and rather than pay a psychotherapist to sort out my issues, I wrote this.

Yeah I'm so going to hell.

The first time it happened was after I got home late from the Christmas party. I knew Blaine would be out with his drinking buddies so I didn't pay as much attention as I should to the time. By 2am I was well on the way to sloshed, stumbling out of the cab and struggling to get my key in the lock.

There were warm, soft lips at my ear as I fumbled for the light switch in the hall. His arms encircled me and I leaned into his touch.

"It's late." Blaine murmured.

"'m sorry." I slurred.

"Come on baby."

He was pulling me through the hall and into the living room. I made some vague noise of protest. I didn't want living room, I wanted bedroom.

I found myself slumped on his lap on one of the arm chairs. I let my head rest in the crook of his neck. He smelled incredible.

"Kurt? Baby?"

"Mmm."

"I worried about you."

"Blaineumsorree…" I yawned. "Bed now?"

He was kissing along my hairline. I felt his hands fumbling with the zipper of my pants and suddenly felt a whole lot more awake.

I pressed my face into his neck and "mmmm'd" a bit more to let him know I was totally up for drunk sex. But he didn't seem to notice, even as his hand found its way into my boxer shorts.

"Baby?" he repeated. "You know how much I love you right?"

"Yeah…"

"You really scared me tonight. I don't think you understand…"

There was a sudden sharp wrench of pain as he yanked at my pubic hair. I yelped out loud, and he pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth, made a shush noise.

"…I'm not going to be ignored Kurt," he said gently.

I was gasping and not in a good way. All traces of sleepiness had vanished. Before I knew what was happening I'd been twisted round on his lap, and I could feel my bare ass exposed as he pulled my underwear down.

The first slap came crashing down, and there were hot tears in my eyes. It wasn't from the burning pain that had made me cry out, it was the overwhelming, shuddering humiliation of it.

It wasn't like he'd never been rough with me before. There was a bruise still healing on the side of my hip from last week when he'd grabbed a little too hard in climax. But this was different. This just _hurt._

_A second slap. A third. They were getting harder and harder until it felt like my skin was burning._

"_Blaine stop! Stop it!"_

"_Are you crying?"_

_Another slap. This one made me sob out loud._

"_Answer me!"_

"_Yes!"_

"_I bet you loved it, you little slut. Did he make you come, did he -"_

"_Blaine, no…"_

_He started to hit me harder and faster and I'd given up trying to make sense of this or to hold back the tears. I was sobbing openly now._

"_Blaine I'm sorry, please, please I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"_

_Finally it ended. I was slumped with my damp face pressed into the arm of the chair, my body heaving silently. I felt his hand start to rub gently at my raw backside, slow and soothing._

"_Kurt."_

"_Yes?" I choked out._

"_Do you understand? You can't behave like this again."_

_He sounded wistful. Like I'd disappointed him._

_I nodded. And suddenly he was gathering me up in his arms. I moaned at the friction against my sore backside, he pressed his lips to my ear._

"_I'm so sorry baby…"_

_He was planting kisses all over my hot face. I melted into him, clinging, burrowing into his neck again, still wracked with quiet sobs._

"_It's ok, it's ok…." he murmured. "Sshh, it's ok."_

_He was stroking my hair now. I closed my wet eyes and pressed my body into his as he gripped me tight and rocked me softly to sleep._


	2. Chapter 2

I'm Sorry

_**Long time, no update! I wanted to explore the way Kurt's kind of being infantilised in this relationship. In case this fic wasn't perverted enough already. Hope you like! PLEASE REVIEW! REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY!**_

There was a brief moment the next morning before the memory formed in my sleep addled brain. It was warm in Blaine's arms – he must have carried me upstairs after I fell asleep. For a moment I was calm, untroubled. It was far too early to be awake; the room was barely light yet. Then I stirred against him slightly, and the soreness awoke all those feelings from the night before – shame, fear, and betrayal. And running underneath them all, a queasy undertow of arousal.

He was shifting against me, sighing as he woke. I lay there unmoving in his arms, eyes still closed. I felt him brush my hair off my forehead, and then he was pressing open mouthed kisses onto my neck.

"Pretty," he mumbled. "You're such a pretty little baby…"

He kept talking like that, trailing off into meaningless nonsense. I felt the words hum against my skin as he kept kissing me.

I might be desperate to avoid having to deal with this, but my body apparently had other ideas. I couldn't ignore the hot coil of desire that was growing in the pit of my stomach.

At last I made an attempt to raise myself up onto my elbows, only to feel his hands pressing me firmly, gently back down onto the mattress. His mouth latched onto mine, his fingers gripping my hair and tilting my head back slightly for better access.

The next thing I knew, he was palming me through my boxers. Not hard, just enough that I couldn't help rocking against his hand. Familiar territory for us, but the sensations were tainted and distorted by the night before, making them new again.

His stroking continued until I was gasping against his mouth, and coming in a rush of heat. I trembled, panting, and let my head fall onto his shoulder as he gently wiped me down with a tissue. As my blood stopped pounding, I started to feel that familiar boneless exhaustion; soon I was barely able to keep my eyes open.

Blaine smiled, pressing a kiss onto my forehead.

"Go back to sleep."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Just to defend myself; this is **_**porn**_**.**__** Kinky, kinky porn. It goes without saying that none of this is anywhere close to my idea of a loving relationship. Don't try this at home, etc. Also, obviously I do not own the rights to Glee or any of these characters. Please review!**_

I sipped at my coffee, curled on the sofa, freshly showered and well rested. The TV was on but I stared through it as I played back the events of the last twelve hours over and over in my head.

Blaine appeared, dressed in jeans and a soft grey sweatshirt, bare feet and all. My heart started to pound at the rare sight of him in casual wear, his curls soft and loose.

He sat beside me, smiling a little. I smiled back. He leaned in to kiss me and started to run a hand absently through my hair, gently stroke the small of my back.

It was hard to pinpoint the difference in the way he touched me now. It wasn't just touchy-feely; it wasn't even possessive, not in the jealous kind of way. It felt like his simple, unquestioned right, like ownership of my body had finally been given over to him.

There was gentle, insistent pressure on my shoulder, pushing me down his body. I caught on quickly and fumbled with his zipper, yanking his boxer shorts out of the way so that I could lick him into hardness. I stroked him eagerly with my tongue, causing him to groan and dig his fingers into my bare shoulder. When I started making happy humming noises in the back of my throat, he actually swore out loud and dug his nails in so hard he drew blood.

He came down my throat – a first, but I could easily get used to the taste. I gave his softening member a few more licks to clean up the rest.

Blaine pulled me back up, unbuttoned my shirt lazily. I wriggled out of my sweatpants until I lay naked beside him. I was tempted to try and get him out of that sweatshirt but I sensed he preferred it this way.

"If we keep this up I'll be late for work," I said, half joking. He smiled.

"You know how ridiculous I think that place is," he murmured. He was stroking me with gentle, teasing caresses now. My breath hitched.

"It is," I agreed. Blaine thought fashion magazines were vapid, especially _Jolie_ where I worked as a junior assistant buyer. It amused him that I took it so seriously.

"But at least it's something I'm good at," I said.

"Kurt, you've been there for three years now. I hate seeing you struggle like this…don't you think the stress is too much?"

I wished we could have this conversation another time, without his hand pumping my cock.

"Y-yeah. I've been thinking about –_ oh_ – about what you said…"

"Just take some time off. I make enough for the both of us…take a year or two out to rethink."

"Yes. Ok. Rethink."

After that, all rational thought went out the window. Blaine gave me a long, hard stroke from root to tip that made me whimper and arch my back.

"Oh God, Blaine…Blaine, yes…"

I melted against him as I came.

"That's it," he breathed. "Such a good, pretty boy…"


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hoo boy. The return of full-on Dark!Blaine and actual sex this time. And a lot of orgasm denial and humiliation, because I might as well go for the full home run of my filthy, filthy kinks while I'm at it.**_

Blaine glanced my way.

"Just a minute," he said mildly, flashing an absent smile before returning to his laptop.

Even though he'd asked for quiet, I couldn't help the whine of pure need that escaped me at his words. I tried desperately to keep myself from clenching down around the butt plug – I'd made many attempts to push it out, and had only managed to torture myself further.

In the month since that first night, this had become something of a routine. Most mornings would start with Blaine getting me achingly hard, usually with his hand. He never blew me anymore and I was starting to_ crave_ the feel of his mouth on me. He'd always leave before I managed to come. But not before he'd secured me to the bed and eased one of his toys into me. Long, short, thick, thin. Dildos designed to caress the prostate or anal beads, once. Anything.

The hot-pink plug had been vibrating softly inside me for hours, set to the lowest frequency to keep me hard without providing enough stimulation to allow me to come. It had turned me into a writhing, keening mess within ten minutes. I had been practically sobbing by the time Blaine had returned in his lunch hour. He'd been studiously ignoring me for four and a half minutes now and I was on the verge breaking down completely.

I couldn't help it; I shifted slightly, managing to drive the plug in a fraction deeper. A strangled moan burst out of me.

"_Please,_" I whimpered.

He sighed and snapped his laptop shut. He stood up and circled the bed, surveying me with a fond kind of smile.

"Ok baby. You want me to make you come?"

I groaned involuntarily in response.

"Tell me how."

"Fuck me Blaine, please God, fuck me, fuck my hole, I need your cock in me so bad, fill me up, fuck me senseless, please Blaine, God, fuck, please…"

I mindlessly babbled the stream of filth as he started to stroke my inner thighs. The begging was something we'd had to work on. I'd refused at first. The things he made me say still set my stomach churning with degradation. But once he'd got me horny and desperate enough, I'd fallen into it with ease.

The plug was still throbbing gently inside me, keeping my breathing irregular and my muscles pliant and weak with pleasure. Blaine gripped the end and started teasing it a little deeper; my hips were rutting involuntarily to meet his shallow, titillating strokes. He gave my butt cheek a light, infuriating slap. This one wasn't supposed to be painful, just degrading, since Blaine liked to have me in a younger, more submissive mind-set. I forced my body to keep still.

"Look at yourself Kurt…all tied up…trying to fuck yourself on a vibrator…" he murmured.

I felt that dull, seeping sense of humiliation in the pit of my stomach; now mingled irrevocably with arousal and _need_. Blaine twisted the plug a few times and it finally slid free. I made a mewling, whining sound at the sense of emptiness and loss.

"You're so desperate, aren't you? So shameless…"

He freed my ankles from the restraints, and then his fingers were in my open hole. No teasing now; he knew I was ready to come at the slightest stimulation. He scissored his fingers briefly and then I felt the cold sting of lube. He spread my legs wide and slid into me, filling me up in the way no plug ever could. Two hard thrusts, his hand gripping my leaking cock and stroked hard, one more thrust and I was done for. I shuddered, convulsed; my head fell back weakly as my body collapsed from under me.

He didn't stop fucking me. His hand was still rubbing hard at my softening cock; I was so sensitive that it was unbearable. I moaned listlessly through the haze and tried to bat his hand away but his pace was increasing, he was thrusting even deeper inside me. He dug his nails into my thighs – he'd hooked my legs over his shoulders for deeper penetration. There was something obscene about the sight of them spread like that.

"Blaine…Blaine," I gasped. Too much…so sensitive… it hurt…

At last, I felt a warm gush of liquid filling up my sore, inflamed hole, and he slumped across my chest, spent.

This time I wasn't allowed to get cleaned up. Blaine fell asleep inside me. I lay awake for an hour at least, trying to get some sleep to recuperate. Our mixed fluids dried between us, quickly becoming maddeningly itchy against my skin. But in spite of that, it was an incredibly soothing feeling, to fall asleep with Blaine's thick, warm cock filling me up.


	5. Chapter 5

I hated it when Blaine had to go to conferences. He was set to be away for at least the next four days. It had only been a few hours since he'd left me in bed, sleepy and content after he'd stroked me to orgasm, but already the yearning had started.

It wasn't like I never resented his constant presence; it wasn't as if I enjoyed the way he reduced me to a bratty ten year old most of the time. There was a large part of me _**(the old me)**_that felt overjoyed to have these rare glimpses of independence.

It was physical yearning. Physical need. My father had told me years ago that sex will change you, inside. And it had. This longing was brand new.

We'd met two years ago, and our sex life had started off steady. Bland, really. I remembered our first time together, in his bed, on silk sheets while Iron and Wine played in the background. I remembered how it had thrilled my romantic heart. I knew my libido had always been pretty low for a guy. We'd fallen into a nice pattern. Three times a week. If that.

After…whatever _this _was had begun – less than six months ago, if that was possible – it had become harder and harder to quench the need that was throbbing deep in my gut. The need that pulsed right to my cock.

There was a clear explanation for that, of course. We were having sex a whole lot more. Actually I did very little else. I had spent more time on my knees sucking cock in the last two days alone than I had in the 24 years before I met Blaine. He fucked me at least twice a day. Not counting the hand-jobs either. He'd discovered that simply reaching to rub at my cock a little through my jeans could make me pliant and submissive almost right away now. My body had grown used to it, used to being kept in a semi-permanent state of arousal.

I tugged at my hardening cock. Blaine didn't like me masturbating. Not without him watching. He kept me so sexually exhausted that normally I couldn't work up the energy to do it anyway. But the rules changed if he left town for a while. He liked the idea of me at home alone, fondling myself until I came, over and over again. Thinking of him. Playing with my tight hole. Fucking myself with a thick dildo, plunging it into my ass again and again.

My cock twitched, spurting strings of hot come. My hips stopped jerking. Exhausted now, I sank into the sofa cushions, lifting my hand to lap at the semen absently. It was pure habit now. Blaine would watch me with heavy lidded eyes as I swallowed his seed _**("That's it…lick it all up like a good boy…")**_

The frustration was worse now I'd quit my job. I had far too much free time on my hands. I could draw masturbation out for hours if I wanted to; starting with slow touches to my cock as I fingered my ass lightly, just brushing the puckered rim at first. When I drew it out that way, it always seemed to build and build until I ended up moaning and writhing as I fucked myself deep, fast and hard with a vibrator. But it was never enough; not until he came back and buried his cock in me.

I couldn't fall asleep without one of Blaine's plugs stretching out my hole and filling me up; without the soft, teasing vibrations keeping me half hard as I slept.

My breathing gradually returned to normal as I lay naked in the late evening light.

I knew I had to leave him. I'd known that for a long time. Truthfully, I'd known it as soon as I felt the first shock of pain, that drunken night. Maybe even before then.

I'd been burying my head in the sand. Not because I was happy here, or because I loved Blaine. There was nothing left of my feelings for him, nothing except this burning lust. I stayed because it was easy. Getting out meant having to face him. It meant rebuilding my shattered life. It would definitely mean years of psychosexual therapy at this point.

It would be easy to just keep letting him caress and stroke and fuck me to orgasm every day. It would be easy to do what he wanted and let go for good. Commit to him fully. It would be easy to let him take care of me.

And yet, somehow, now that my choice had been made, I felt a new strength pulsing through my veins, as well as something rather like self-respect – I hadn't been able to feel that in a long, long time.

Hours later, I let the door fall shut behind me. An old Wall Mart receipt lay on the coffee table in the living room. In the end, I'd only been able to find two words to scrawl on the back.

I'm sorry.


End file.
